


A Family Visit

by StripestheBoar



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Family Relationship - Freeform, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Lonely Avatar Naomi Herne, Uncle/Niece relationship, none of this incest stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27180659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripestheBoar/pseuds/StripestheBoar
Summary: “What’s happening to me?” she asked at last, the moment she knew Peter was waiting for. She hated to give him the satisfaction, but she needed to know.Peter’s tone shifted considerably, serious, but cautious with his words. “What did Evan tell you about our family?”She gave a small shrug, scooping the vegetables into the slow cooker with the diced beef and turning it on. “He didn’t say a lot about his folk. Apparently you and him had a bit of a spat and disowned him, and that you lot were highly religious.” She placed the knife and cutting-board into the sink. “Is that what this is? A punishment from God?”Peter gave her a rather doubtful glance over. “Does it feel like a punishment?”___Peter pays his niece a visit.
Relationships: Naomi Herne & The Lonely, Peter lukas & Naomi Herne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	A Family Visit

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up. None of this shipping incest stuff stuff. No toxicity. I wanted a nice, uncle/niece relationship between Peter and Naomi, and damn it, I will write it if I have to!

It was a foggy day outside. It was usually foggy, Naomi had noticed, and while certainly unnatural given forecasts of sunny weather, she found herself surprisingly apathetic about it all. She knew children played in the sunlight and her once-friends enjoyed clear night skies, but couldn’t muster up the care to feel jealous. Because she wasn’t. The silence was nice. Peaceful.

The fog had blanketed her home since her nightmares about the prick from the institute had faded. It was faint at first, wisps of translucent clouds lingering around her home, and initially she had been consumed by terror. The fog was back to take her, wanting to drag her into an empty grave and bury her alive so that she could never lay eyes on another person again. She was sure not even the worms would want to infest her body, a testament to her loneliness. The thoughts of what horrors lie in the Fog brought tears cascading down her face at times, and in others, in her most horrid times where she could hardly get out of bed, he thoughts comforted her. The silence. No one she would speak to; she had enough things in her life already.

A good two years after her fiance’s death, the Fog had grown so thick that the streetlamps were strangled by the choking blanket, not allowing Naomi to see who roamed the streets at night. She didn’t know how to feel about this. Sometimes it made her wonder if anyone else truly existed outside her home. She didn’t know if she cared.

The day came when she made her decision. By then the Fog was so thick that she couldn’t see anything outside her window. She knew if she tried to walk to her car to grab herself groceries or go to work, she would be lost in the Isolation that had now consumed her life. So she rolled up her sleeves and tied her hair up into a bun, knowing the cool air would feel nice on her skin. She checked to make sure the promise ring she had worn for Evan was still on her finger although she had never taken it off, along with the lovely diamond necklace he had gifted her on her birthday. Oddly enough, the gems and ring had a soft blue tint to them that hadn’t been there before.

She didn’t care. They were still as beautiful no matter the color, as long as they reminded her of Evan.

She walked outside and sat on the porch, waiting for the Fog to take her.

How long had passed then? Hours? Days? Weeks? She couldn’t find the strength to care as the tendrils of moist air wrapped around her almost like a hug. Unlike in the graveyard, there was no maliciousness to its grip. It instead felt welcoming, like she was stepping into her home after a grueling year of work. Like she was stepping into Home after a lifetime of escaping it. She could sit there for eternity with only the Fog to keep her company, and she didn’t mind that.

When the Fog crept into her home in the coming weeks, she didn’t mind. Her TV had stopped working ages ago but she didn’t bother to replace it; hearing voices that were not her own or Evan’s was insufferable. She worked from home now and ordered groceries to be brought to her doorstep instead of going out to get them herself. She knew when they stepped foot on their yard; she could feel their fear when they were enveloped by the chill. She could feel their loneliness and their terror of it all. She didn’t know how she could, but she did, and it felt… good.

She stopped leaving her house. She didn’t respond to messages from family. She stopped caring. She stopped hurting.

* * *

The calm rhythm of chopping carrots in Naomi’s otherwise mum kitchen was thrown off with a knock at the door. She threw an ugly glare at the living room where the entryway was, the diamonds in her necklace and her promise ring turning an angry vermillion. It was unannounced. No one was supposed to come at this time, and yet some stranger had the audacity to interrupt her peace.

Oh god if it was Jehovah’s Witnesses she would scream. 

After some minutes of watching the entryway, she decided to ignore the knocking, getting back to her vegetables. This stew was going to be heavenly and she wasn’t about to let some stranger ruin it.

There was another knock that shattered her beloved silence, and she dropped the knife, storming over to the door. She practically yanked it open, glaring up at the broad man who stood in her doorway. Full, thick white beard, barrel-chested, standing in this formal manner with his hands behind his back and closed button up navy blue trench coat that made him look like a traditional sea captain. He looked like such a douche, and this was only confirmed when Naomi realized that she recognized him. She had only caught a glimpse of him at Evan’s funeral, but those eyes were unmistakable. They were so like Evan’s but holding this empty gaze, like you could get lost in them for years and never know another living being. They would be oddly comforting if it was anybody other than one of the folk that had thrown her out of her fiance’s funeral.

“May I help you?” she demanded, her jewelry now fading to a calmer, softer crimson. 

The man hardly seemed deterred, outstretching a large hand with an almost welcoming smile. “Peter Lukas. I was Evan’s uncle. May I come in?”

She looked at the hand that could easily enveloped hers. “Why?” she asked point blank.

The hand didn’t move as Peter offered a smile. “Family matters.”

Naomi was silent at first, before nodding and taking up his hand and giving it a shake. As much as she wanted to slam the door in Peter’s face, she thought of Evan. Maybe this way she could get some answers.

She went back to the kitchen, leaving the door open so Peter could come in and politely shut the door behind him. No need to lock; no one else would dare to come in. She noticed Peter take his shoes off at the entrance and remove his coat to reveal a snug soft grey sweater. It looked soft and comfortable, like the Fog. “Rather well-mannered of you,” she noted, trying to draw out if he was planning to stay longer than welcome.

Her almost-uncle-in-law slung the coat over his arm, giving her a rather knowing look. “If I tracked mud all over your floor, you would have a reminder that someone else was in your home.”

Naomi hated how much she agreed with that statement.

Evan’s uncle looked around the place, humming with a small smile at the thick Fog that filled every inch of her home. “I love what you’ve done with the place. Evan used to have it… uncomfortably bright. Pictures of friends on the wall and whatnot. Ugh.” Naomi knew he was being genuine, though it didn’t stop the hot crimson that returned to her jewelry when he spoke ill of her late love. She went back to chopping carrots, knife gripped firmly in her hand. If he noticed, it seemed he didn’t care. “Even still… he had good taste in partners.” She noticed him looking directly at her, and the glare she gave back along with the clenching of her knife made it clear she refused to be a victim again. After all these years she still hadn’t gotten over Evan’s death, but she’d be damned if she’d go back to the helpless torment that was that fateful night.

Peter seemed to notice the implication of his words and for the first time looked flustered, waving a hand to dismiss her thought. “Wait, no. No no no, I’m not— that’s not what I— I’m seeing someone.” There was this silence in the air before he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was talking about, you know, the whole isolation thing and… yeah. Sorry about that; I’m not good at confrontations. Talking to strangers isn’t, uh… really my thing.”

The colors of Naomi’s jewelry turned a soft orange then, anger fading away some as she found amusement in the breaking of his stolid demeanor, though she did not smile. “I don’t, either, but Christ that was bad.”

Peter relaxed some despite the insult, walking into the kitchen to watch her. “I heard you were feisty. Didn’t actually believe it when I saw you at the funeral.”

“Your family kicked me out.”

“You wanted to be alone.”

“That doesn’t make you any less of a prick.”

Peter had this expression of “true, true,” not denying it. He seemingly noticed the small dinner table had two chairs across from one another despite there only being one person living there. One was covered in dust, no guess as to whom it had once belonged to. “May I sit down?”

“Nope,” Naomi replied, really punctuating that ‘p’.

“Yeah, fair enough.” Peter let out a sigh. Naomi couldn’t imagine he expected anything else out of this conversation. After a moment of pause, Naomi shifted back to the reason he came here in the first place.

“What’s happening to me?” she asked at last, the moment she knew Peter was waiting for. She hated to give him the satisfaction, but she needed to know.

Peter’s tone shifted considerably, serious, but cautious with his words. “What did Evan tell you about our family?”

She gave a small shrug, scooping the vegetables into the slow cooker with the diced beef and turning it on. “He didn’t say a lot about his folk. Apparently you and him had a bit of a spat and disowned him, and that you lot were highly religious.” She placed the knife and cutting-board into the sink. “Is that what this is? A punishment from God?”

Peter gave her a rather doubtful glance over. “Does it  _ feel  _ like a punishment?”

Naomi didn’t respond. She didn’t believe she could put up a convincing rebuttal. Peter took this as his cue to continue.

“We never disowned Evan,” he began to explain, watching her move to get some spices. “Evan was family, but he lost his way. Our patron didn’t take kindly to it, and for his sake, he needed to leave. We were hoping he would find the path and return where we would welcome him with open arms, but… alas, it was never meant to be. And when the time came for Evan to go, our god gave him to the End.”

Naomi took the time to consider his words, and although she didn’t quite understand a large majority of it, one thing stuck in her mind, causing her to give Peter her full attention. “Are you saying if he was…  _ devoted _ like your family, he would still be alive?”

Peter’s momentary consideration and subsequent shrug was a sign of a definite “maybe”. “Our patron tends to be fond of those who actively feed It. Evan certainly would have had a longer life.”

Naomi’s jewelry shifted to a navy blue, her heart aching at the memory of her Evan suffering on his deathbed. So sudden was it that she hadn’t even given a proper goodbye. Had he known about this and simply forgone salvation because he loathed his family’s actions so much? To think, she could still have him here, warm arms around her. She would be alone, but she would be alone with him, and that was all she wanted at that moment. Evan had changed her life for the better, and she never even got the chance to say goodbye to the only person who she always wanted around in a life devoid of people.

She hadn’t realized she was crying until she was wiping away messy tears with the heel of her hand. She didn’t feel ashamed; she was still in mourning, an emotion she didn’t think people like Peter could understand. “What does that have to do with me?” she muttered, leaning against the counter for support as she let her tears flow. The Fog felt so comforting around her now. It told her that her loneliness was not to be feared, but she was still allowed to mourn as long as it took. She had only pushed others away in her grief, after all.

She was being watched as the Fog thickened around her. “Do you feel It?” Peter asked softly, watching with a hardened, yet sympathetic expression. “The Isolation? The Forsaken? The way Its chill wraps around you, seeping into your core? It wrings you like a hug, leaving you Forgotten and yet belonging as though they are the same?”

Naomi let her tears cascade, her pain fading as she instead wept for that which accepted her so readily. It felt like Evan, but eternal. This comfort couldn’t die on her in a hospital and leave her to piece herself back together. She swallowed, only able to rasp a weak “Yes…”

The older man nodded, knowing the feeling well. “How does It feel?” 

The widow’s jewelry was now a deep pink. “It feels… good. Like I’m loved.”

Peter approached calmly, and Naomi did not fight when he gently took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. His hand was so beautifully cold and rough, as though they never touched another human. “Evan rejected our patron, but he never could fully escape It. He found you, and so did our God. It felt your loneliness and how you found comfort in it, and It grew fond of you, and now you belong to It. You feed it through the fear of Isolation you bring to others.”

Naomi was beginning to understand. She couldn’t find the strength to deny a single word because she knew it all to be true. “I belong,” she parroted, her tears beginning to dry. Evan had been the only one to make her feel like she finally belonged. To feel it once more was addicting. 

Her eyes rose to Peter’s, noticing they seemed to have brightened some in this look of pride. “What now?” she asked. Was this her life from now on? She couldn’t say it wasn’t ideal, but why was Peter still here? Had this been one giant pamphlet on the beginning of her new life.

The captain gave her hand another comforting squeeze, and for a moment it almost felt parental-like. He looked upon her with such fondness. She was what Evan never was. “I wanted to invite you to the family,” he said simply. “You could stay with us. Belonging, but still very Alone.”

Naomi’s brow furrowed, confused by the offer. “Evan and I never married. I’m not a Lukas”

“We were going to meet you regardless,” Peter mentioned. “Things tend to happen to us for a reason.”

Naomi was at the point of understanding. “And it happened that your— or,  _ our  _ patron—“ she had never seen Peter smile so broadly “—led me to your family.” She now had to wonder if Evan’s death was more than simply natural causes.

Peter let go of her hand, though she did not mourn the loss. She welcomed the emptiness. “Precisely,” he hummed, offering her his arm. “Now, how would you like to meet the family.”

Naomi stared at his offer. “Evan would hate me.”

“Evan isn’t here.”

Her necklace and ring were now a faded sky blue, and she looked up at him with a tiredness she had felt for far too long. After a moment of hesitation, she gently put both hands on his arm, clinging to him at the elbow. “Do I  _ have  _ to meet  _ all  _ of them?”

His face split into a grin and he patted her hand. “You’ll fit right in.” 

After getting his coat and boots back on, he led her to the door. “I know a shortcut. I warn you, the Fog is pretty dense. If you let go you might get lost for all eternity.”

She opened the door to see nothing but thick, swirling Isolation. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She looked to him, tired but with a smile that offered a bit of hope in an otherwise bleak existence. “Can you tell me more about Evan?” 

Peter merely chuckled. “Of course,” he promised his niece, leading her into their patron.

With that, Naomi Lukas-Herne was Forgotten, but she knew it was better this way. She was Alone and Forsaken, but she had the family she’d always wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> Like it? Leave a comment or give criticism. It really helps me improve and keep on writing.


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